All But One Got Away
by Shootthemessanger
Summary: The strike had been going so well until one of their own was taken. Crutchie's screams filled the square as he was dragged away to the Refuge. The last thing that Jack hears is his own name being called out, before the younger boy was dragged away. (includes missing scene referenced by Jack Kelly in Act 2 scene 3 at Medda's theater)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey ! Nice to meet you.**

 **This is my first Newsies fan fiction and actually my first fan fiction in general so I'm very excited to get started! This idea has been in my head since I went and saw Newsies Live! in theaters (twice! And it was OUTSTANDING) and I felt like I should share it with you guys.**

 **Comments and reviews highly appreciated! I believe that's all I have to say so without further ado, enjoy!**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or it's soundtrack and lyrics. All rights go to Disney.**

"Strike! Strike! Strike strike strike strike strike!" The chants of the Manhatten newsboys filled the square as they gathered and crumpled up newspapers, throwing them in the air in an act of defiance.

"Str-" the voices silenced as the boys caught sight of Wiesel, the Delanceys, and multiple other goons standing across the square, cracking their knuckles.

"I think it's time these kids learned a lesson." Wiesel remarked, hitting the palm of his hand with a wooden bat. The newsies began hefting bundles of newspapers, gearing up for a fight

"Newsies..." Jack Kelly stood at the front, his eyes never leaving Wiesel, "get 'em!" The newsies hurled the bundles, knocking several goons to the ground. Then it all dissolved into chaos. Wiesel and the Delanceys surged forward, each taking on a different boy. Crutchie tried to dodge the goons coming at him, evading all but one. A tall and muscular man grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, causing his balance to waver. Crutchie quickly found his balance and smacked the man in the stomach with his crutch, giving him enough time to quickly make his escape. He looked around at the brawl raging around him. Race was occupied with Morris Delacey, and Crutchie was happy to see him land a few punches on Morris's face. Davey appeared to be losing to a goon twice his size, doubled over from a punch to the gut. Crutchie rushed over to his aid, hitting the goon in the back with his crutch and sending the giant man to the ground.

"Thanks." Davey breathed, looking up at Crutchie. Crutchie nodded before scampering off to avoid Oscar Delancey, who had spotted him and come charging. Crutchie looked around again after loosing Oscar in the crowd; they were loosing. They were loosing bad. Les was holding his arm gingerly while Race already had a black eye forming. Elmer's nose was bleeding and Mush and Sniper both had matching cuts above their eyebrows. Crutchie looked around for Jack and found him dodging Wiesel's fist as it came swinging towards the side of his head. Suddenly, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Everyone stopped fighting to look at the cops, who had just arrived.

Romeo ran up to the one who had blown the whistle, "It's about time you got here! They're slaughtering us!" He yelped when the cop responded by swiftly cuffing him in the ear, sending the boy to the ground.

"It's the bulls!" Finch shouted, and the newsies began to scatter, retreated while they still could. Crutchie turned to follow when he ran straight into Morris. The impact sent him tumbling to the ground and Jack ran over to help him up. Suddenly Oscar and Morris grabbed Crutchie from behind, yanking him away from Jack.

"Jack! Jack!" Crutchie screamed as he tried to fight against the Delancey brothers. Jack rushed in to try and grab him but was sent flying to the street as Oscar kicked him in the chest. Jack rolled from the momentum of the kick, stopping as he hit someone's shoe. He looked up and saw the face that he had hoped to never see again.

"Kelly." Synder growled down at the boy, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Jack scampered backwards, trying to get away from Synder. He got to his feet and ran into an alleyway, hiding from Synder in the shadows.

Meanwhile, Crutchie continued to struggle as the Delanceys dragged him out to the middle of the square, gimp leg dragging.

"Jack! Romeo! Anyone! Please, help!" He cried out desperately, but received no answer. Oscar reached forward and ripped the strike banner off of his crutch.

"Take that ya dumb crip!" He shouted, waving the banner in the air. Crutchie took the opportunity and swung his crutch, catching the Delancey in the ribs and causing him to stumble backwards. Crutchie felt a moment of triumph before Morris spun him around and delivered a strong punch to his cheek, the force sending Crutchie crashing to the ground, his crutch clattering beside him. The brothers smirked at the fallen newsie before unleashing everything they had on his whimpering frame. Crutchie's screams filled the air as their kicks connected with his head, ribs, and legs. The brothers were halted by a leering Snyder, who walked over and picked the fallen crutch off the ground. Crutchie's eyes widened in terror as realization set in.

"No no please don't plea-" his begging was cut short as Snyder brought the wooden crutch down onto the boy's cowering body. Each blow evoked another shriek from the crippled boy, as the thing that had once aided him now mercilessly beat him. Snyder finished and tossed the crutch to Oscar, who caught it firmly. Snyder roughly grabbed Crutchie's wrist, yanking it up.

"It's off to the Refuge with you _little man._ " he cackled as he fastened handcuffs tightly around the pleading boy's wrists.

"No no NO NO NO!" Crutchie begged as Morris grabbed his bad leg, pulling hard to draw a squeal from the newsie.

"Jack! Jack help! JACK" Crutchie screamed as he was dragged over the cobblestone streets, getting farther from the square with every painful tug.

"CRUTCHIE!" Crutchie looked up at the sound of his name to see Jack running out of the alley, terror on his face. Crutchie clawed at the stones, trying to find a grip, but to no avail.

"JACK!" The crippled boy shouted once more, before his head smacked the stones, sending him swirling into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'll spare you a long message but I hope you guys are enjoying! I'm trying to update often at least within the first few chapters.**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: once again, I do not own** Newsies **or any of the lyrics or soundtrack. All rights to Disney.**

The boys looked up from their crowded bunks as the splintering wooden door flew open. They watched silently as the Delancey brothers marched in, dragging a unconscious boy behind them. The others stayed silent where they sat, knowing not to interfere as the brothers threw the kid onto the concrete floor in the middle of the room, where everyone could see. The boys tore their eyes away from the kid's limp frame as echoing footsteps stopped at the door. In the doorway stood Synder himself, holding a wooden stick of some sorts. He strode into the room and nodded at Morris and Oscar, who looked at him with anticipation. Several gasps slipped from the spectating boys' mouths as the Delancey brothers began to kick the kid's unconscious frame. The boys watching wondered what the kid had done to receive such a harsh beating, even after he had lost consciousness. After several well placed kicks to the boy's torso and head, the Delanceys turned and left the room, grinning. Synder grasped the stick firmly, before hoisting it up and throwing it across the room, with aim just good enough that it bounced off the kid's head before clattering to the concrete beside him. And with that, Snyder glared at the onlooking boys before turning heel and walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

All the boys' eyes remained on the door, waiting to see in the men would return. When they didn't, a tall brunette haired boy slowly got up from one of the bunks, waiting another moment before quickly making his way to the new kid.

Whispers flew around the room as the boy knelt down beside the unconscious kid.

" _Is he breathing?"_

" _How old is he?"_

 _"What did he do?"_

 _"Is he from the strike?"_ At that last question, all the boys quieted down, watching the brunette as he carefully rolled the kid onto his side. They all knew about the strike of course. Word travels fast, even in the refuge. All the boys had gained some hope when they first heard about the Manhatten Newsies' strike against Pulitzer, hoping that maybe it would get them out of this hellhole.

The brunette haired boy sucked in his breath sharply as he assessed all the damage done to the insensate boy. The kid couldn't have been more than 15 years old, dirty blond hair covered in dirt and dried blood. The boys noticed a grey hat that had fallen off when the kid was thrown on the ground. Even covered in dirt it was clear what it was. A newsie hat. The newsie's face was covered in bruises, with a stream of blood still running from his nose. He had gashes up and down his arms, and his fingernails and palms were scratched and bloody. The brunette haired boy undid the newsie's tattered shirt, surveying the damage underneath. More gasps were heard from the observing boys. The kid's torso was a collage of black, blue, and red. The boys couldn't even tell where one bruise ended and mixed with blood. His legs looked the same: covered in bruises and bleeding cuts underneath the torn pants. But there was something about his right leg that widened the brunette haired boy's eyes. From the knee down, the leg was twisted at an odd angle, shriveled and ghastly looking.

Everyone in the cramped room remained silent as a skinny black boy climbed down from his position on a top bunk occupied by three other boys already. The boy made his way to where the wooden stick had been thrown by Synder. The boy picked up the thin instrument, turning it over in his hands. He observed the handle towards the middle and the layers of faded cloth wrapped around the top. His eyes fell apon the strip of canvas that was tied to the bundle of cloth on the top of the stick. The words "Strike" screamed out in faded and shaky handwriting.

"S'a crutch." The boy reported, breaking the long time silence in the room. The brunette haired kid looked up at him from beside the comatose boy,

"He's breathing." He said, putting his hand on the newsie's chest, the uneven and sporadic rise and fall confirming what he had said. A red haired boy stood up,

"We've gotta move 'im" he said nervously, a slight Irish and New York mixed accent lacing his words. A short, muscular boy stood up after him, nodding in agreement. The two made their way to where the brunette haired boy knelt, the black boy hovering over him, still gripping the crutch. The brunette haired kid slid his arms underneath the kid's back, while the red haired boy supported his boulders and the shorter boy gripped his legs, careful not to be rough with the twisted limb.

"'Ay Twitchy, Begs, scootch over would ya?" The brunette haired boy instructed as the three boys maneuvered the surprisingly light newsboy towards the closest bunk.

"Aw Trade w-" the boy's objections were silenced by the brunette haired boy's pointed look. The two boys in the bunch moved over, allowing Trade and the others to gently lay the blond kid onto the bunk. One of the boys who had moved over to allow the newsie room leaned closer, trying to get a good look at the unconscious boy's face.

"Is he really from the strike, Gee?" He asked the boy holding the kid's crutch.

The black boy nodded, indicating to the strike banner attached to the crutch. The younger boy returned his gaze to the newsie, watching his chest slowly rise and fall.

"Is 'e gonna be okay Trade?" The red haired boy asked the brunette. Trade watched the boy's broken frame, worry in his eyes as the newsie's breathing became even more shallow and he started to whimper a bit, the sound coming out as small, quiet gasps, like he was trying to catch his breath.

"I don't know Tate. I don't know"

 **Hope you enjoyed this newest chapter and please feel free to comment and review! I'd love to hear some feedback. As for the story, can you guys guess who the unconscious boy is ;) I should hope so. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible but as for right now that is all I've got. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Newsies or the soundtrack or lyrics. All of those rights go to Disney**

The boys in the refuge sat around on their bunks, weary from work and more than a few sporting black eyes and split lips from not moving fast enough. The brunette haired boy, Trade, was sitting on top of one of the bunks with three others, playing cards with a deck that one of them had smuggled in. One of the boys was about to lay down his cards when a younger boy poked his head up, signaling that he had something to say.

"What is it Begs?" One of the boys asked, his voice slightly tinged with annoyance. The boy steadied himself before looking up at them.

"We thinks he's waking up." At this, all four boys jumped up, slamming their cards down on the flat mattress. They hastily climbed down, jumping when they got close enough, before hurrying over to the bed, which was already surrounded with curious boys. Trade and the other boys pushed their way to the front as whispers floated around.

 _"Is 'e dying"_

 _"What's goin' on"_

 _"he's goin' crazy"_

 _"Holy smokes"_

When they got to the front, the boys saw the unconscious newsie laying on the bed twitching, mumbling words no one could understand. Trade and the short, muscular boy both crouched beside the bed, while the skinny black kid and the red haired boy leaned against the bed frame, peering in. All the boys watched the kid, who's twitching had escalated to thrashing and the mumbling was slowly growing into screams. No matter how much he tossed though, his eyes remained closed, and he remained oblivious to the rotting jail around him. It had been 4 days since Synder and the Delancey's dragged the kid into the center of the room, and he had still yet to wake up. The boys surrounding the bed watched in fear as his words became clear,

"Jack help! Romeo! Race, Finch, Mush, someone! Specs! Help!" He pleaded, tears running down his bruised face. Trade's eyes widened as the blond boy continued to thrash around in the bed, almost as if he was trying to fight off someone.

"Hawker help me!" Trade ordered, grabbing the newsie's arms, stopping them from flailing. The muscled boy beside him followed suit, gently keeping his legs from kicking. This went of for several minutes, and with each moment that passed, the boys surrounding the bed watched in slight terror of the nightmare that the injured boy seemed to be having. The newsie thrashed around some more, screaming,

"JACK! JACK! JACK!" Suddenly he sat up with so much force that it knocked Trade and Hawker back. The boy's wide and frightened eyes staring straight ahead, terrified. The boys around the bed watched as the boy's gaze became more coherent, and he began to scan the room, eyes taking in the Refuge around him. The chipping wooden door and the rusting metal beds with their flat mattresses. The bloodstained floor and walls. He looked around the room until his eyes landed on the boys watching his every move. He looked at a surprised Tate, who had stopped leaning on the bed frame.

"W-was I the only one caught?' The newsie sat up further, gasping in pain. Tate looked at him incredulously, not answering.

"Please tell me I was the only one caught! Race? Romeo? Davey? Specs? Jack?" The boy pleaded again, this time his eyes leaving the red haired boy, looking for a familiar face.

"Ah.. no you'se was the only one brought in" Tate finally replied, concerned. The kid relaxed at that statement, apparently relieved no one else had been brought in with him. Trade stood up, standing next to the boy.

"You's awake" he stated. The boy opened his mouth to reply when the door flew open abruptly. The boys scattered as Synder and the Delancey brothers marched in. They walked up to the bed where the disoriented boy laid, frozen with fear. Synder grabbed the boy by his right leg and pulled him off the bed, drawing a yelp as the kid landed on the ground, clutching the twisted limb.

"Well well well the brave striker has finally awoken." Synder taunted down at the boy. Some of the boys looked up at the mention of the word "strike".

"Y-y-you don' scare me Spider!" The boy stuttered defiantly. Synder tilted his head, and several of the boys snickered at the use of the nickname.

"I don't? We'll see about that!" Synder nodded to Oscar, who moved toward the other boys, blocking them from getting to the newsie, while Morris quickly grabbed the boy's throat, shoving him against one of the bunks.

"No!" A few of the boys shouted, trying to help the kid, only to be pushed back by Oscar. The blond boy's feet flailed above the ground as he clawed at Morris's hands, struggling for air. Synder grinned and the boys watched horrified as the boy who had just woken up's face turned a sickly shade of blue as his oxygen supply was cut. Morris tightened his grip on the newsie's neck, ignoring the pleas from the other boys, until the boy's hands fell limply by his side and his feet stopped flailing, eyes going wide in terror before slowly fluttering shut. The moment they closed, Morris released him, letting the boy's once again limp body fall to the ground. Synder once again said nothing, just turned and walked out, followed by the brothers. This time, there was no hesitation, all of the boys ran over to the newsie's body. Trade took charge again and rolled the kid onto his back, delivering a few quick pumps on his chest before the kid sputtered back to life, choking, coughing, and gasping for air. The others breathed a sigh of relief seeing the kid's short and sporadic breaths. Trade leaned back on his heels, hand going up to his forehead in relief. As the kid's breathing slowed down, Trade brought the boy into a hug, feeling the shallow breaths from the boy.

"You's ok now. You ain't safe but you's alive kid." He breathed. The boy pulled away from him, looking up at the rest of the guys crowded around him.

"You gotta name kid?" Gee asked him, helping him up. The boy leaned against the wall for support, his right leg falling at a crooked angle, and smiled at the boys with cracked lips, even though his eyes were filled with pain,

"Crutchie"

 **Hope you enjoyed this newest chapter! Also, to clear some things up, Crutchie smiled at the end (despite just being strangled) because I wanted him to always be positive, even when it's hard (hence his eyes showing how he really felt)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, ! Please don't kill me for not updating for a while. Sorry about that but thanks for hanging on. Please leave reviews so I can make this an even better story for you guys! So, I won't keep you guys waiting, here is chapter 4! Enjoy!**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or the soundtrack and lyrics. All rights go to Disney.**

 _Four days earlier,_

Jack couldn't help it, when he saw Snyder, he ran. He scampered backward, separating himself from the evil man leering down at him before spinning around on his hands and knees and standing up, running away. After losing Snyder in the chaos, Jack ducked into a nearby alley, hiding in the shadows. The shaken boy bent over, putting his hands on his knees, panting.

"Jack!" At the sound of his name, Jack's head whipped up, searching for the origin of the cry.

"Anyone! Please, Help!" Wait, he knew that voice. Jack ran to the edge of the alley, careful to keep himself hidden. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Crutchie fall to the ground as Morris Delancey's fist caught his face. Jack's heart felt as if it was being torn out as his non-biological brother's screams filled the square as the Delancey brothers worked him over. The brothers suddenly stopped as the man from Jack's nightmares walked up to the shaking blond boy cowering on the ground, holding the boy's crutch. A wicked grin spread across Snyder's face as he lifted the crutch.

"No no please don't plea-" Crutchie's pleas were cut short as Snyder brought the crutch down on his body, eliciting a scream from the shaking boy. Tears ran down Jack's face as the blows and the shrieks kept coming. He watched as Crutchie's frame jerked with every hit. To Jack's relief, Snyder stopped beating Crutchie, and he composed himself, straightening his coat and throwing the crutch to Oscar, who caught it swiftly. But that relief was replaced with terror as Snyder grabbed Crutchie's shaking wrist, fastening handcuffs roughly around them.

"It's off to the Refuge with you _little man"_ Snyder hissed. Chills went down Jack's spine as he heard the name of the nightmarish prison

"No no NO NO NO!"The warden smiled cruelly as Morris grabbed Crutchie's bad leg, cutting off his begging.

"Jack!" His brother's screams filled Jack's ears.

"Jack help!" Crutchie's voice was raw with pain, hitting harder Jack than the Delancey brothers' brass knuckles.

"JACK!" He couldn't take it anymore,

"CRUTCHIE!" Jack ran out of the alley, arm outstretched towards Crutchie, trying to get to him. He felt a hand grab his forearm, stopping him from reaching his brother. He pulled against it desperately as he watched Crutchie strain his neck to lift his head, looking up at Jack. They made eye-contact, and Crutchie threw out his hands, clawing at the cobblestone streets, trying to stop Morris from dragging his further, but it was pointless.

"JACK!" Crutchie gave one final cry before Jack watched his head smack the ground as Morris yanked him violently, and the crippled boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he was dragged away.

"NO!" Jack shouted, trying once again to run after Morris. Tears streamed down his face as he was held back by the unknown assailant restraining him. The grip on his arm tightened, snapping Jack back to reality as he turned his head to see who had been keeping him from saving Crutchie. His eyes locked with a pair of cold, cruel eyes, and he knew he was in trouble.

"Kelly" Snyder spat, twisting Jack's arm, his vise-like grip never loosening. Jack wrenched his arm out of Snyder's grasp, stumbling backward. He found his footing again and he turned and ran.

"KELLY!" Jack heard Snyder's voice behind him. He didn't stop though, tears blurring his vision as he sprinted up fire escapes and across roofs, Snyder's shouts fading behind him. Jack reached the familiar ladder and clambered to the rooftop, slamming the gate behind him. He stood there panting for a moment before slamming his fist on the railing,

"AGHHH!" He screamed, his voice cracking in defeat. Jack sunk to the ground, hands sliding down the railing, and he curled himself into a ball. Sobs wracked the seventeen-year-old's crumpled body. Jack collected himself before slowly standing back up, leaning heavily on the railing of his rooftop penthouse. He spun around, stopping as he saw the second mattress on the other end of his penthouse. The mattress that belonged to Crutchie. Jack stared at the mattress, it was his fault that it was empty. It was _his_ fault that he was here and Crutchie was in the Refuge, barely alive or worse.

"Folks we finally got our headline, 'Newsies CRUSHED as bulls attack!' Crutchie's calling me, dumb crip's just _too damn slow_ " his mind flashed back to the Delancey brothers grabbing Crutchie and dragging him to the center of the square.

"Guys are fighting, bleeding, falling. Thanks to good ole' Captain Jack!" Jack threw his hands in the air angrily. The boys had depended on him, and he failed them.

" _Captain Jack_ just wants to close his eyes and GO!" Jack brought his hands back down on the railing, feeling the metal shake underneath his fists. He closed his eyes and leaned forward over the railing of his penthouse. He opened his eyes looked down at the streets below, empty of people except the occasional adult or kid looking for a place to spend the night. Jack watched a small boy trudging down the street, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to keep warm as he kept walking. He'd met Crutchie like that, Jack remembered.

 _He'd been selling on a street corner and he heard something, like a muffled cry. He glanced around quickly, making sure that no one would steal his selling spot. Jack quickly made his way across the street. It was a Sunday, and all the folks rich enough to afford cars were in church, praying and such. As he got closer a nearby alleyway, he began to hear voices,_

 _"Please, I-I don't want any trouble." It sounded like a young boy's voice, but Jack couldn't be sure._

 _"Oh you're in for a lot more than a little trouble" That voice, Jack recognized. That voice meant something was wrong. He crept closer to the alley, sticking his head around the corner so that he could see. His eyes took in a small boy being cornered by two bigger and no doubt older boys. The Delancey brothers. The boy appeared to be holding something wooden under his arm as he tried to press himself against the brick wall behind him. The Delanceys moved in closer and Oscar cracked his knuckles, chuckling._

 _"Whattaya say, Morris? You think we should teach this crip a lesson about ignoring people?" He asked his brother. Morris looked at Oscar, a cruel smile on his face, before looking back at the trembling boy,_

 _"I think we should Oscar." The boy yelped as Morris grabbed him by his shirt collar, lifting up in the air. The sound of wood hitting stone echoed through the alley as the boy dropped whatever had been under his arm. Jack ran into the alley,_

 _"Hey! Put 'im down!" Jack yelled. The brothers turned around, Morris still holding the boy above the ground. The boy stopped struggling for a moment to look over his shoulder at Jack, looking startled and relieved at the same time._

 _"And what are you goin' ta do about it?" Morris sneered. The brothers looked at each other before nodding, and Oscar stepped towards Jack while Morris turned his attention back to the boy. Jack gulped at Oscar smirked, before charging towards Jack, arm gearing up for a punch. Jack dodged and slipped under Oscar's arm, throwing off the bigger man's balance off. Jack looked over his shoulder to check on the younger boy just in time to see him fall out of Morris's hands and onto the ground. A rough hand on Jack's shoulder spun him around and Oscar landed a punch to Jack's lip. Jack stumbled backward, hearing thumps followed by soft shouts coming from behind him as Morris landed hit after hit on the boy. Jack clenched his fists, he had to help the boy. But first, he had to take care of Oscar. Jack steadied himself and this time when Oscar came charging, he was ready. Jack ducked under Oscar and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back painfully. Oscar let out a scream and Jack pushed him to the ground. While the older boy curled on the ground nursing his arm, Jack turned to Morris, who was busy slamming the kid into the wall behind him. The kid's yelps had died down to whimpers, and he looked dazed._

 _"Hey, Morris! I said, put 'im down." Jack growled, blood dripping from his lip. Morris turned around to look at Jack before throwing the kid to the ground. The young boy landed, crying out softly before crawling over to a corner, curling in on himself, trying to get away from Morris._

 _"You just don't know when to quit do you, Kelly." Morris sneered at Jack, cracking his knuckles. Jack tried to dodge as the Delancey charged towards him. Morris grabbed Jack in a headlock and spun him around, ready to shove his face into the alley wall. As a last ditch attempt, Jack swung his leg back, catching the older boy between the legs. Morris immediately doubled over, releasing Jack, who backed up until he was blocking the boy from the brothers. He dragged his arm across his lip, wiping the blood,_

 _"Get out of here" He warned, and the Delanceys did just that, running out of the alley as fast as they could. Jack turned the boy cowering behind him, who looked to be about 2 years younger than Jack himself,_

 _"You okay kid?" The boy looked up at him and nodded slightly, noticeably shaking, with a bleeding cut on his forehead, bloody nose, and a somewhat dazed look in his eyes. Jack held out his hand to help him up,_

 _"Jack Kelly" The boy took it, and slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on the bricks behind him and balancing on his left foot,_

 _"C-Crutchie. Crutchie Morris" He replied._

 _"Well Crutchie whattaya say we get you cleaned up, I've got just the place." Jack offered, Those cuts looked pretty bad, and the dazed look in Crutchie's eyes suggested that he had knocked his head pretty badly. Crutchie nodded again before gesturing slightly behind Jack. Jack looked to where he was pointing to see the wooden object he had seen him drop earlier, laying forgotten on the ground. Jack walked over and picked it up. He turned it over in his hands, looking at the handle that stuck out a third of the way down, and the scraps of cloth wrapped around the top. It was a crutch. Jack walked back over to Crutchie and handed him the crutch. Crutchie took it gratefully and slid it under his arm, leaning onto the cloth. Jack took Crutchie's non-crutching hand and put it around his shoulder, helping the boy limp slowly out of the alley and towards the lodging house._

A horn in the distance snapped Jack back to the present and he turned away from the streets, trying to cast the memory out of his mind. But he couldn't. It was his fault that Crutchie was condemned to the rotting dungeon that was the Refuge. He had been there for Crutchie those many years ago but he hadn't been there for him today. Jack pushed off the railing and began pacing the penthouse. He needed desperately to get away, go somewhere far from where he wouldn't be reminded of his failure everywhere he looked. He needed Santa Fe.

Jack closed his eyes and pictured himself getting on a train and leaving the good-for-nothing streets of New York forever. He smiled, in Santa Fe there'd be no Snyder chasing him, no more dodging the Delancey brothers when he was trying to sell. No one would cheat him out of his fair share there, no way. And the moon, the moon would be huge in the sky, shining so bright that night would become day. Jack opened his eyes and walked over to Crutchie's mattress, looking down at it. Why did he have to spend his whole life in New York? Where was that written? He was only 17 and his future, well his future didn't exist. If life wasn't good here, why didn't he just go somewhere new? Somewhere far away from Pulitzer and his lousy headlines. Somewhere like Santa Fe.

Jack knew he couldn't spend his whole life dreaming, no matter how badly he wanted to. He needed something new, a clean slate. Let the other boys laugh at him, he didn't care. All he needed was to get out,

" _save my place,"_ He thought to himself.

 _"I'll be there"_ He just needed it to be real, not just somewhere his mind had made up. Because he was dead if he couldn't count on Santa Fe to be there for him.

Jack looked down at his best friend's mattress, empty and abandoned. It was his fault that Crutchie wasn't sitting on that mattress looking up at him. His fault that he was alone in the penthouse instead of accompanied by his brother. A sob tore through Jack's lips and he sunk down onto the mattress, burying his head in his hands, letting the sobs roll through his body.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, friends! As** **promised, I'm back with another chapter! I hope you guys enjoy and don't forget to leave reviews!**

 **-Hayd**

 **p.s Warning: sorry if I break your heart, I truly am.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or the soundtrack and lyrics. All rights go to Disney.**

Jack lifted his head, shakily pulling himself to his feet. He slid his cap back on his head and made his way back down the ladder, stepping down onto the streets below his penthouse. He sluggishly made his way to the front of the lodging-house, wiping the tears from his face. He stopped at the door, unwilling to face the other boys. He could already see their faces when they found out that their brother had been dragged off to the place that haunted all their nightmares, while he did nothing. He could see the betrayal on their faces turning into anger; they'd blame him for sure. Heck, he blamed himself. But that still didn't change the fact that he had to go in there. Those boys were every bit his family as Crutchie was, and he needed to be there for them. Like he...like he hadn't been there for Crutchie. Jack took a shaky breath and grabbed the handle, twisting the knob and slowly pushing on the wooden door.

All conversation that had been taking place before the door opened stopped, all the boys turning to look at Jack. He stared back at them, taking in each one's appearance. Specs had a deep purple bruise forming a ring around his swollen eye, Romeo held a wadded up cloth up to his nose, blood peeking out from the folds of the square. Henry was sitting down helping Race bandage a nasty gash on his bicep, while Mush pressed a wet cloth to Sniper's brow, cleaning a cut on his twin's eyebrow. The injuries went on and on: Blink had a busted lip, Buttons had a long, thin cut traveling across his chest, even Les had his arm resting in a sling wrapped around his neck. They stared at each other, Jack's eyes filled with guilt. Les was the first one to break the silence, a smile breaking across his small face,

"Jack!" That one word sent the room into a frenzy, the newsies all jumping up and crowding around Jack, each taking their turn either putting their arm around his shoulder and drawing him into an embrace.

"We were so worried!"

"We thought you was hurt real bad!"

" _Are_ you hurt?!"

"Bet you gave Snyder a run for 'is money!"

"They soaked us pretty badly ey Cowboy?" Albert chuckled a little.

"Don't worry! We'll get 'em next time!"

"Yeah!"

Race pulled away from Jack, hands on his arms. He looked into Jack's anguished eyes, face falling,

"Jack," He began, looking past Jack and over his shoulder as if looking for someone, "where's Crutchie?"

Jack couldn't hold back his tears anymore and they began to stream down his face as he shook.

"It's all my fault...I wasn't there and the Delanceys came...and then Synder...a-and," Jacks sobs died down, though the tears still ran down his face, "They got 'im...He's gone." The room was silent as all the newsies looked at their leader. Elmer softly spoke up,

"You don't mean-" He trailed off. Jack nodded, his tears falling to the floor. Terror filled the boys' eyes as their minds pictured Crutchie bloody and beaten, lying in the Refuge. Romeo sank heavily into one of the chairs, the blood stained cloth hanging forgotten in his hand, blood slowly trickling from his nose. Specs did the same, almost falling into the chair beside him, eyes staring blankly at the ground. Tears welled in Davey's eyes and Les buried his face into his older brother's shirt. Suddenly, Race turned and slammed his fist into the wall, a scream tearing through his throat. The boys took a step back, startled his violent outburst. Race whirled around to face Jack, shoving him back against the door. The boys jumped as Jack's head hit the wooden frame,

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU WEREN'T THERE FOR HIM!" He shouted angrily in Jack's face. Jack didn't fight against him, he deserved it. The boys rushed forward, yelling at Race to let him go. Mush and Sniper grabbed Race's shoulders, pulling him off of Jack.

"Get out of here." Race spat, struggling against the boys' holds. Jack looked at his family,

"I'm sorry." He choked out, before backing out the door and fleeing into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Just a bonus chapter, Race isn't prone to violence.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do no own Newsies or the soundtrack or lyrics**

The boys stared at the empty doorway where Jack had just been, still in shock of what had just happened. Mush and Sniper let go of Race, pushing him down onto the couch, where he sat, still fuming.

"What the hell was that Race?!" Elmer demanded. Race stared at his lap,

"It's his fault. He said it himself, he wasn't there!"

"Doesn't mean you attack him like that! I know you Racetrack and that ain't like you!"

Race looked up at them, expression angry but with pain in his eyes,

"I ain't ever been in the Refuge before. But I's seen the kids that have. Elm, that place breaks kids like twigs. Tough kids. Crutchie ain't too tough. you know, what if he's hurt so badly that he-"His voice broke with the question. Elmer look at Race, eyes softening,

"Crutchie's a tough kid Race. He'll make it through, we all believe in him."

"What about Jack?" Race asked worriedly, remembering the guilt on the 17-year-old's face, even when he had shoved him against the door. He hadn't fought back. Elmer put his hand on Race's shoulder,

"Give him some space for a few hours, he's taking it real hard. You know that." Race nodded, putting his hand on top of Elmer's. Mush grabbed Elmer's other hand with one hand and Sniper's in the other. Albert walked over and took Sniper's hand. Slowly, each newsie made their way to the old couch, taking each other's hand in their own, until all the boys were joined, silently afraid, silently defeated, but silently supporting each other, holding onto each other like a lifeline, tethering them to the little hope they had left that it would turn out alright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, guys. I am so sorry that I haven't updated in a while but I am here now to bring you yet another chapter! Things have been crazy (And it sucks that we don't talk that much) and I'm going to try to be more constant with chapters. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter and please leave reviews, I appreciate all of them!**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or it's soundtrack or lyrics. All rights go to Disney**

Present day.

Crutchie could practically hear the boys flinch as Morris's fist connected with his eye. He stumbled backward, both hands flying to his eye. He lost his grip on his crutch and fell to the ground, only to be yanked back up by Oscar.

"I'm not going to ask you again _crip._ Where. Did. These. Come from?!" Morris demanded, holding up a wad of thin blankets that had recently been discovered.

"I d-don't know! T-they just showed up at tha window this mornin'!" Crutchie pleaded, trying not to cry out as Oscar's grip tore open the cuts on his arms and torso that had been previously healing. The Delancey brother tightened his grip, lifting the struggling boy higher. A small gasp escaped Crutchie's lips as he felt blood beginning to drip down his chest.

"It was one of your newsie friends wasn't it?" Oscar hissed. Crutchie shook his head frantically. Oscar pulled the newsie close, ready to slam the boy's shaking frame into the wall in front of him when another voice shouted,

"'E's tellin' the truth! They turned up at da window dis mornin'!" It was the red-haired boy with the mixed accent, Tate. The Delancey's turned to look at him, and Oscar dropped Crutchie into a heap on the floor. The brothers advanced until Tate was backed against the wall,

"Oh yeah? Anything else you wanna share?" Morris asked threateningly. Tate gulped and looked past the two brothers at Crutchie, who lay curled on the ground, clutching his side. Crutchie looked back at him then shook his head slightly, it wasn't worth both of them getting beat up. Tate looked up at the Delanceys towering over him before shaking his head,

"N-no" he reluctantly answered, glaring. Oscar smirked,

"That's what I was thinkin'," He said, before motioning to his brother. Oscar and Morris turned to leave the room, kicking Crutchie in the ribs for good measure as they passed. The whole room was silent for a few moments after the door slammed shut until Tate walked over to Crutchie, who had managed to push himself into a hunched over sitting position. Tate held his hand out to the wheezing boy,

"You okay?" Crutchie looked up, gratefully accepting his hand, pulling himself up. The newsie opened his mouth to respond when another voice cut him off,

"Who cares?" The boys looked over to where a black-haired boy with an annoyed expression stood, arms folded. Tate looked slightly taken aback,

"Whaddaya mean 'who cares?' Look at 'im Mill, he just woke up yesterday and he's more beaten up than I'se ever seen you" He shot back. Mill uncrossed his arms and approached the group of boys,

"I mean, so what. So the kid's gotten soaked a few extra times. The Delanceys like to pick on him. Least it's him takin' the hits and not the rest of us." Some of the other boys nodded in agreement and Tate clenched his fists, ready to argue as Mill strode up to Crutchie, who was using Tate's arm for support, relying heavily on the redhead.

"Listen here _Gimp_ ," He sneered, jabbing his finger into the boy's chest, drawing a wince from the injured newsie. "I don't know if you'se got it through that bleeding little head o' yours yet, but this ain't your little _'Newsboy Lodge'_. It's every boy for 'imself here unless you wanna end up a corpse in an alleyway. An' the rest of us? We'se been here longer, so don't think we'se gonna be _nice_ you just because you'se a crip who's seen the wrong end o' a couple fists. You're no better than the rest of us. Hell, you ain't even equal to us. But guess what? You'se just gonna have to learn to get used to it, cause you ain't leaving 'ere and you ain't gettin' special treatment neither." Mill flattened the finger on Crutchie's chest into a palm and shoved him roughly. The newsie tried to step backward on his useless leg, crying out in pain and crumpling to the ground. Mill looked down at Crutchie before spitting on the ground beside the boy's hand,

"Welcome to the Refuge, _Crip_ " Mill growled, before spinning around and stomping back to a bunk in the corner, accompanied by several other boys. The remaining boys who had witnessed the sudden confrontation stood there in silence, awkwardly casting their eyes away from the blond boy shaking on the floor.

A sudden banging on the door broke the silence, and several of the boys jumped as Snyder's voice screamed in at them,

"IN BED YOU WORTHLESS STREET RATS" The command was followed by some more banging and then retreating footsteps. The boys began to disperse, trudging back to their bunks. Tate turned back to Crutchie, once again extending his hand to help the boy up, handing him the wooden crutch he needed to get around.

"Thanks" Crutchie mumbled, staring at the ground.

"No problem..." Tate replied, noticing how much weight the boy was putting on the crutch. The two walked over to the bed Crutchie had been in when he'd woken up, only to be blocked by a hand stuck out in front of them,

"Sorry crip but now that you're awake you'se gettin' a top bunk. The one over there" a boy who looked about 17 said with fake sympathy, smirking as he pointed to a bunk a few feet away from the window. Tate looked appalled by this statement, but Crutchie just nodded with a forced smile, before limping over to the bunk. He could see that there was only one other boy on the top, making it one of the lesser crowded ones. Tate watched as Crutchie propped his crutch against the wooden frame of the bunk and put his hands on the ladder. Slowly, Crutchie pulled himself up the ladder, bum leg dragging painfully up each rung. Tears had begun to form in Crutchie's eyes as he made it to the top, collapsing onto the mattress, every part of his body screaming. He let out a sob, gripping the sheet. His hand Closed around something small, and he brought his hand up to his face, trying to get a better look at what it was: a piece of charcoal. Crutchie rolled the charcoal in his hand for a moment before looking over the edge of the bed down at Tate,

"Uh, sorry to ask, but would ya happen to have a piece of paper I could use?" He asked quietly. The Irish boy considered for a moment before gesturing 'hold on' and disappearing. A few moments later, he returned with a sheet of yellowed paper. He handed it up to Crutchie, who thanked him. Tate looked up at the boy,

"Goodnight Crutchie" He whispered before darting off to his own bed.

Crutchie sat up on the bed, feet dangling off of the side, a candle lighting a small region around him. He looked down at the paper in his lap, before bringing the charcoal down to touch it,

 _Dear Jack,_ his handwriting was shaky and small, but Crutchie knew Jack would be able to read it. He could always read it. Crutchie looked down at the paper, continuing,

 _Greetings from the Refuge._

 _How are you? I'm okay._ It was a little overstatement, but a little exaggeration wouldn't hurt, especially is it reassured Jack.

 _Guess I wasn't much help yesterday,_ Crutchie paused. He'd been unconscious for four days, according to the other fellas. He kept it anyway, he hadn't been awake those four days, so it felt like yesterday.

 _Synder soaked me real good with my crutch... Oh yeah Jack,_

 _this is Crutchie by the way..._

 _There here guards,_ they _is rude. They say "Jump. Boy, you jump or you're screwed."_ Crutchie thought back to earlier that day when the guard had given him a push towards the window, laughing as Crutchie stumbled and barely caught himself on the windowsill.

 _But the food ain't so bad, least so far._

 _Cause so far they ain't brung us no food._ Crutchie thought for a moment before scribbling after that,

 _ha ha._ He sighed, continuing to write,

 _I miss the rooftop._

 _Sleepin' right out in the open, in your penthouse in the sky._

 _There's a cool breeze blowing, even in July._ Crutchie smiled sadly as he thought about Jack's penthouse, and how Jack had dragged up another mattress so that Crutchie could sleep up there with him.

 _anyway._

 _Ah so guess what?_

 _There's this secret escape plan I got. Tie a sheet to the bed, toss the end out the window. Climb down then take off like a shot._ Crutchie was rather proud of his plan, and he hoped Jack would be too. There was just, one small problem:

 _Maybe though, not tonight, I ain't slept, and my leg still ain't right._ Crutchie glanced down at his right leg, feeling the pulsing pain radiating up from it.

 _Hey, but Pulitzer, he's goin' down, and then Jack, I was thinkin' we might just go. Like you were saying._

 _Where it's clean and green and pretty, with no buildings in your way. And you're riding, Palaminos, every day. Once that train makes S-_

"SHHHHHHH" Crutchie didn't even realize that he'd been reading the out loud until the boy next to him swatted at the air, shushing Crutchie. Crutchie quickly put the charcoal back on the page, writing some more,

 _I'll be fine._ Crutchie wasn't even sure if he believed that himself, but he hoped Jack would believe it.

 _Good as new._

 _But there's one thing I need ya to do:_

 _One the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each other. So you tell all the fellas for me, to protect one another..._ A tear fell from Crutchie's eye, and he quickly wiped if off the page, careful not to smudge the charcoal,

 _The end._

 _Your friend,_ Crutchie shook his head, that didn't sound right. He scratched it out

 _Your_ _ **best**_ _friend,_ No no that wasn't right either. He scratched it out again,

 _Your_ _ **brother.**_ Crutchie smiled, that was right. He looked down at the letter one last time and signed his name,

 _Crutchie._

"All right enough all ready!" The boy in the bed mumbled sleepily, smacking Crutchie in the arm. Crutchie carefully folded the letter and clutched it in his hand before leaning over to the edge of the bunk bed, blowing out the candle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, . So, because I took so long to update (sorry!) I thought I'd write another chapter so, here you guys go!**

 **-Hayd**

Specs ducked out the door of the lodge, gripping the bundle of wadded cloth close to his chest. The lanky boy shivered a little, looking around and then walking briskly, eyes still scanning the area. _Jack would be so mad if he knew,_ Specs thought to himself as he hurried down the dark streets. His glasses began to slide down, and he reached a hand up to push them back onto the bridge of his nose when he heard a pair of voices coming towards him. Thinking fast, Specs dove into a nearby alley, retreating into the shadows as the voices came closer,

 _"D'ya see 'im shakin'?"_ One of the voices laughed.

 _"Yeah, an' d'ya hear 'im stuttering? "N-no they just showed up at tha window" Pathetic."_ The other replied. Specs furrowed his eyebrows, he knew those voices. He crept forward slowly, looking around the corner just in time to see the Delancey brothers walking down the street.

"Well, what do I do with these?" Morris asked, gesturing to a bundle he held wadded in his hand. Specs's grip on his own bundle tightened as he recognized the blankets that he had brought to the refuge the night before. Oscar shrugged,

"Sell it or toss it. I don't care" He replied nonchalantly. Morris considered before tossing the blankets onto a puddle, spitting on them in disgust. Specs watched the brothers as they turned the next street corner, disappearing from sight before stepping back out onto the sidewalk. He looked around once more before setting off again, walking faster. A few blocks farther and Specs slowed down, recognizing the buildings that lined the streets. He stopped at the rusting iron gate at the end of the street, looking through the bars at the barely standing structure in front of him. The Refuge. Staying in the shadows, Specs crept around the back of the prison, entering through a hole in the wall that surrounded the property. He ran his hand blindly around back wall of the building, searching for the first ladder of the fire escape. He moved his hand around a bit and felt it drop suddenly, then land on the familiar metal rung of the fire escape ladder. He tossed the bundle over his shoulder and began to climb the ladder. _It was the second window up_ , Specs remembered, climbing until he reached the foggy window. He set the buncle on the railing and turned to the window, sliding his fingers around the edges of the frame until he felt the series of cracks running up the right side. Digging his fingers into the cracks, Specs yanked upwards and the window slid open. Grinning, he grabbed the bundle off the railing and slipped through the now open window. Specs stood up straight as he got fully into the room, eyes scanning the motionless boys in the bunks. He looked through the moonlit room, searching for a better place to leave the bundle so that this time the Delanceys wouldn't find them.

" _Hey"_ a small voice whispered from a bunk a few feet away. Specs stayed silent, looking into the shadows at where he thought the voice had come from.

 _"Are you tha one who brought tha blankets yesterday?"_ the voice asked, quiet and quivering. Specs nodded, hoping that the boy could see him. Something about the kid's voice sounded familiar, but it was so quiet that Specs couldn't quite place it.

 _"Uh...D-D'ya think I could have one? Morris kinda took tha other ones..."_ The boy asked sheepishly. Specs nodded again, silently heading over the bunk. As he neared the bed, he felt his shoe kick against something, and he tripped, stumbling into the bed frame.

"Christ!" He spat quietly, looking down to see a familiar looking crutch laying several feet away. Specs's eyes widened and he whipped his head up, looking right at the boy who'd called him over. Tears began to form in his eyes as he took in the boy, beaten beyond recognition, but dirty blond hair and sideways grin unmistakable,

"Crutch..." He whispered in shock. Crutchie gazed back at him, squinting through the faint moonlight before his grin grew even bigger.

 _"Specs?"_ Crutchie whispered back, disbelief in his eyes. Specs nodded slowly before practically jumping to embrace the blond newsie in the top bunk. Crutchie pulled away first, a coughing fit racking his slouching frame. Specs looked up at him,

"Aw Crutch what did they do ta you?" He whispered, untangling one blanket from his bundle and passing it up to Crutchie. The younger boy took it gratefully, wrapping it around his torn clothes.

 _"Specs what're ya doin' 'ere? Does Jack know ya came 'ere?"_ Crutchie whispered urgently. Specs held the remainder of the bundle of blankets up for Crutchie to see,

"I came to bring you guys more blankets. And no, Jack doesn't know I'se been coming 'ere." Crutchie stared back him,

 _"No no ya havta leave!_ What _if Snyder or one of da Delanceys catches ya!"_ He exclaimed, panic now written on his face. He doubled over coughing again, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Specs jumped as a hand reached up from the other side of Crutchie and smacked the blond boy on the side of the head, a sleepy voice shushing him. Crutchie dropped his voice guiltily, continuing,

 _"You gotta get outta 'ere!"_ He pressed. Specs reached his hand up and placed it on Crutchie's leg, attempting to calm the boy down.

"Don't worry, don't worry I won't stay much longer. Where can I put tha blankets?" He whispered. Crutchie pointed over across the room,

 _"There's a few fellas over there who ain't got blankets I think"_ he replied quietly. Specs made his way to where Crutchie had pointed. Sure enough, there were a few boys without blankets. Without waking them, Specs draped the remaining blankets over their sleeping frames before making his way back to Crutchie. The two newsies stared at each other until Crutchie broke the silence,

 _"It ain't your fault ya know. It ain't any of the fellas' faults."_ He said softly. Specs nodded, tears beginning to fall down his face.

"Ya don't belong 'ere Crutch. We'se gonna get ya out" He replied. Crutchie smiled, still shivering slightly. The two embraced again, Specs standing on his toes to reach the blond boy. Crutchie straightened up for a moment, remembering something, and he reached into his pocket,

 _"Can ya give this to Jack?"_ Specs took the folded paper from Crutchie's shaking hand and held it in his fist,

"Of course."

 _"Thank you"_

Specs walks back to the open window and slides out. He puts his hands on the frame, ready to push it back into place before pausing, looking in at Crutchie,

"Just hang on, kid. We'se gonna get you outta here." And with that, he pushed the frame back down, sealing the window. Specs climbed back down the fire escape, the paper still in his fist. He looked around the corner before darting back to the hole in the wall, slipping back onto the streets. The moon reflected distortedly in puddles on the ground and the streetlights bathed the streets in a dim gold light. He looked at the folded paper in his hand as he made his way back to the lodge. When he got there though, he didn't go in the door. Instead, he rounded the building, searching for the familiar metal ladder that led to Jack Kelly's safe haven. Specs made his way up the ladder with caution, the strike leader had been missing since Crutchie was taken, but Specs had a hunch he'd be there tonight. His hunch was confirmed when he poked his head up slightly and saw Jack sitting with his back against the railing, staring up at the stars. Specs knocked slightly, causing the 17 year old to jump, snapping him to reality. Jack massaged his forehead, glancing over at Specs. Specs looked at the folded paper in his hands before holding it out to Jack,

"This is for ya."


End file.
